You're clean as a widow woman's washboard, son Stick it in the wind Put the mountains to your back, the great plains on your grille Time to take a little spin
And Boulder looks like the kind of town That I could spend some time But in Houston they got our name in lights
You're clean as a widow woman's washboard, son The slab is yours tonight Townes is in the back lounge, got his hands in his pocket Pulls out two dice, says, "Let's get at it"
Salina in the headlights, snake eyes on the floor Al drops another twenty and Pete heads for the door Springer's feeling lucky, sits down for a spell Oklahoma City and he's lost his last bill
Jeff is in a bind, waiting on sister Hicks Seven comes a calling, as we cross on into Texas Townes is in the back lounge, got his fist full of fives He says, "It's a little bit long, but I'm enjoying this ride"
Be careful with the dice, when you're surrounded by others With boxcars in their eyes Never count your winnings at hour twenty three Of a twenty four hour drive
Remember that you're not the one Calling the tunes That's making those diamonds dance
Or you'll be clean as a widow woman's washboard, son And those are the facts Townes is in the back lounge, cursing at them bones He says, "Ain't this fool ever heard of Raton?"